30 Days of Caryl
by lovesdaryl
Summary: These are short ones in answer to Rhinozilla's 30 Days of Caryl challenge on tumblr. As far as possible, they will fall into place with my other stories, but I will try to keep them readable as standalones. Rating just to be on the safe side as I don't know yet what - apart from some Dixon mouth - I will come up with in the later ones yet to come.
1. First Laugh - Daryl hears Carol

They'd been out on the road for five days, and it had been a rough five days. At night, they'd had to look for shelter, during the day they'd foraged for food. When the farm had been overrun they'd been forced to flee with next to nothing as most of their supplies had been stored in the RV which had been lost when the barn had caught fire and had set Dales beloved Winnebago on fire in turn.

Not only had they lacked food and shelter, they'd also been missing the most basic comforts, which was especially regrettable since they'd enjoyed them so much at Hershel's farm - running water, cold and warm, a stove to cook on, a shower and bathtub, a toilet … The list went on.

It was harder on the Greenes than on the remaining members of the original Atlanta group. They, after all, had already endured such conditions at the quarry outside the city where Rick had found them. While they were by no means used to them, they at least weren't completely new, either. The Greenes, however, were having a hard time adapting as the conditions on the road proved to be quite hard on them after the comfort of their own home.

They were taking a break in the early afternoon of their fifth day out because Daryl had spotted a small stream winding along the valley they were driving through. They'd built a fire, filled all their pots and were boiling water now to take along in their five gallon containers that they'd scavenged from a delivery truck the day Sophia had run into the woods. Apart from that, they were basically taking a break and enjoying the sun.

Carol, however, had decided to make even better use of this unexpected free time. She had grabbed a towel, a bar of soap and her second set of clean clothes and was making her way along the stream to find a secluded spot away from the others. Her eyes were on the ground, looking out for snakes in the underbrush. She had no wish to pay for her wish to be clean and rid herself of her body odor by getting bitten by a rattlesnake.

When the underbush to her right, toward the stream, got thinner she slowed down to find a suitable spot along the water's edge - when, all of a sudden, she heard strange, rustling noises ahead of her and toward the stream. Trying to remember everything that Daryl had told her about being stealthy during the past few days, she crept toward the sounds, doing her best to move as quietly as he did out in the open, with no creaking floorboards to give him away.

Pushing aside the leafy boughs of a bush that was taller than herself, she stared at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Daryl Dixon was standing at the water's edge, his feet tangled in his shoelaces, the strap of his quiver and his poncho, desperately holding his crossbow aloft to keep it from getting coated in mud while he tried in vain to free himself of his restraints. Apparently, he'd had the same bright idea as herself, but was failing miserably at executing it.

She couldn't help herself, there was no way to contain it. For the first time in what felt like years, she laughed out loud.

Daryl's head shot up, blushing a deep crimson that started at his neck and made its way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't believe she had crept up on him without him noticing, and had witnessed this graceless scene to boot. But … Her laugh was adorable.

With a pang of regret he realized that he hadn't heard her laugh until just now. He guessed that at first she'd had no reason to laugh because her husband had still been around who, from what he'd seen, had done his best to drain her life of every little bit of pleasure, and once he'd been gone, they'd lost Sophia.

So what if she was laughing about him? She looked so beautiful, and her laughter sounded so happy and carefree that he would have danced about tied up like this for the rest of his life just to make her laugh.


	2. Naked - Carol sees Daryl

It was the first time they'd found a house to stay in since they'd been run off the farm, and it came with a working gas stove to heat their canned food on, and a fireplace and a basket of dry firewood and kindling in the living room that they intended to make good use of that night. They'd been miserable in the cold outside during the past ten nights on the road, for even though the days had been warm enough, the heat they'd soaked up while the sun was out had never been enough to tide them over the nights.

She was keeping a guilty secret, though.

Before heating the maccaroni and cheese and setting everyone up in the living room with food and some musty blankets that she'd found in the basement, she'd made her way upstairs to explore the second floor and had discovered that the water in the shower was still running. She had decided right away not to tell anyone about this but had made sure that they'd all stay in the living room for a while before returning upstairs.

She found the master bedroom with its walk-in closet and was delighted to come across a stack of the fluffiest bathtowels that she'd ever seen in her life, let alone touched or used. She grabbed two of them and made her way back out into the master bedroom and from there into the hallway.

It was at this point that she heard the sound of running water, and disappointment seemed to fill every cell in her body. Someone had followed her, discovered the working shower, and decided to use it at once. Well, it would be better to be the second person to use the shower than not use it at all, she reckoned. But she at least wanted to know who had beaten her to it.

The door wasn't closed all the way, probably because the person using it was hoping, as she had, that everyone would be staying downstairs for food and warmth instead of exploring the upper story of the house. She slowed down as she walked past the door, hoping the angle would be right so she could sneak a peek.

The shower stall was made up of clear glass walls so she was treated to an unobstructed view.

Her breath caught in her throat.

His legs were muscular and somehow looked as if he had taken root in the ground even though he was moving about as he lathered himself up with shower gel or soap or whatever it was he'd found to clean himself and get the stink of sweat and dirt and blood and walker guts off himself. They were also surprisingly white in contrast to his face and arms because he always wore long pants.

His equally white butt was nicely shaped and had amazing cute dimples on the sides. If she looked at it long enough she guessed she'd see wiry muscles there as well because they were all losing weight and he was constantly on the move, but her eyes were drawn onward.

Just now, he was lowering his head and raising his hands from his sides, looking to his left, and she felt her insides clenching with worry and sorrow. He was removing the dressings from the entry and exit wounds left by his own bolt two weeks ago, inspecting the round scars and picking off what remained of the sutures.

His right hand went to his ribs and a strangled sound escaped him as if he were holding in any expression of pain even when he believed himself alone. Her eyes roamed across his shoulders and back, taking in the fading bruises from the two falls he had taken that day, and it struck her again how close he'd come to dying in that accident. How very close she had come to losing him.

He gently and carefully washed his left side, then, less carefully, the rest of himself and, finally, his hair. As he rinsed the lather off, she got another long look at his back, and suddenly it seemed as if there wasn't enough air for her to breathe. They were gnarled like tree roots, raised, discolored, some of them short, some long, and obviously deep. They crisscrossed in some places. They bore horrifying testimony to his childhood.

Putting his head back, allowing the water to hit his face, he started to turn around. Mortified, she became aware of the fact that she was secretly spying on the man who meant more to her than anyone else in the world and that if she stayed to watch beyond this point, she would lose whatever right she might still have to his respect and affection after what she had already done here.

But just as she was about to pull back and make her way to the stairs and to the first floor again, his voice penetrated the thrum of water on porcelain. "'s okay", he told her matter of factly as she blushed her deepest crimson, "'ve known you were there since ya dropped the towels."

She had been so enraptured, watching his sculpted body move slowly in the shower, that the dropped towels had completely escaped her notice. She was embarrassed enough at this point that it seemed her mind was considering an out of body experience by now. She was feeling lightheaded. No way would she be able to answer him.

She surprised herself by picking up the towels she had indeed dropped next to her feet and pushing the door open just a little bit. He was glistening with water, and his eyes met hers ever so briefly as he squinted over his shoulder before looking down at his feet again. His hand came up and he started gnawing on the ragged cuticle of his thumb even as he turned off the shower with his left hand.

"You'll need these", she said softly, placing the towels next to his heap of dirty, sweaty clothes on the floor. "I'll go look for a fresh shirt for you to wear. And, Daryl?" She paused for a moment. She needed to say this, but knew that it was really too little, too late, in view of what she'd done. "I'm so sorry for spying on you, that was wrong and I shouldn't have done that." Her face was flaming with shame.

For an eternity she thought that by standing there, hidden behind that door and looking at what he was hiding away from the world, she had lost his trust forever and he wouldn't answer her. Worse, she felt that was what she deserved. But then his gruff voice came back, soft and gentle. "'s okay. I'm good with you … seein'."

Even though he turned his face away at once, blushing, she was sure that he saw her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

Quickly, she retreated to find a shirt for him in that walk-in closet. She made sure to firmly close the door behind her.


	3. Naked - Daryl sees Carol

They had found tents again two days ago, in an outdoor supplies store that had proved to be a veritable cornucopia for them – sleeping bags, cooking gear - including gas for the stoves, warm clothing - which they were certainly going to need as it kept getting colder, self-inflating airbeds. Fall had been just around the corner when the herd had ended their stay at Hershel's farm, and by now the leaves were turning and falling, and staying out in the open without shelter would have been out of the question.

Finding new gear had made them so much more flexible. If they found a safe play to stay the night, they took it. If they didn't, they set up a camp instead. Putting up the small one-person tent he'd chosen for himself always reminded him of how he'd set up their old one with Merle in the quarry, back before Rick had handcuffed him in Atlanta. And that in turn always had him wondering if Merle had made it out in the end, if he'd survived and was out there somewhere, safe.

If he'd ever see him again.

With a grunt, he pulled the last line taut and anchored it in the hard, stony soil before wiping his hands on his dirty pants and rising from his crouch. He looked around to check if anyone needed help setting up their stuff.

Rick had the Grimes tent covered with Carl's help. Lori was sitting in their car, looking queasy, with a hand covering her mouth. Even Daryl, who certainly wasn't one for staring at people, had noticed that she was losing instead of gaining weight big time. She seemed to be constantly sick and was eating like a bird. Not keeping down most of what she was eating didn't help matters. Nor did Rick's increasing coldness toward her. But these weren't issues that were any of his business, nor could he have done anything about them.

Hershel and Glenn were setting up a large tent for the Greene family, with the girls pitching in where they could – and where the men let them. The old man seemed to be of the opinion that this wasn't girls' work and answered nearly every offer of help that came from his daughters with a staunch "no". Apparently, allowing them to help would shame him in some way, so he insisted on doing it with only Glenn lending a hand.

Daryl wandered over to where T-Dog was busy with the finishing touches to the medium-sized tent for Glenn and himself. When T looked up at him and gave him an inviting smile, he gave one curt nod and set to work. Together, they had it finished in no time, and T looked very pleased with himself as he put up the camping stove and installed the gas canister. "Thanks for your help, man. With Glenn helping the Doc, it would've taken me that much longer to put it up on my own."

"'s nothin'", Daryl mumbled, instantly uncomfortable at being thanked. At the same time he noticed that he'd neglected to look out for the person he owed most to, apart from Hershel. After all, she always looked out for him – making sure he ate, prodding him to rest, taking care of what little clothing he had left. He looked around and spotted a small tent, the same size as his own, way out behind the large Grimes affair that Rick and Carl were still sweating over. Slowly, trying to look inconspicuous, he sauntered over and looked about himself.

The lines weren't taut as they had to be for the tent to stand up to the fierce gusts of wind that had started springing up over the past few days, announcing the onset of fall. The tent itself also looked a bit saggy. All in all, the thing all but screamed "I've been set up by one person on their own when it really takes two to do this properly".

Angry with himself – Hadn't she been riding behind him? Why hadn't he made sure her tent was set up properly first, before doing his own? – he looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Nor, he realized, was her small pack of clothes or her tote bag the contents of which he couldn't even begin to guess. Squinting into the gathering dusk, he turned around to face Rick who was busy pulling on one of the lines of his tent. "Ya seen Carol?"

Surprised at being addressed so abruptly, Rick looked up and slowly shook his head, trying to remember. "I think I saw her go into her tent after she'd set it up. Maybe she's taking in her stuff?" he suggested.

Daryl grunted his thanks and stepped up closer to Carol's tent. Clearing his throat so she'd be alerted to his presence and he wouldn't scare her shitless, he pulled down the zipper at the entrance and stuck his head into the tent.

They both froze in midmotion, she with her hands reaching out for a clean shirt while crouching on the inflated airbed, with not a single stitch of clothing on her body, him with his head sticking inside the tent like a disembodied ghost that was coming to haunt her. Neither of them moved for the longest time.

Carol saw a blush creeping up from his neck and up over his cheeks and all the way to his ears, and she was quite certain that she didn't look much different – well, apart from the obvious.

Daryl could feel his neck, face, ears heating up, but he was utterly unable to react to what was happening here. She looked so beautiful and delicate in the failing light, so frail and fragile, so … vulnerable. Like everone else, she had been losing weight, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and protect her against all the evils of the world, and make sure she had clothes to keep her warm and food to keep her sated.

He had no name for the emotions that overwhelmed him at seeing her like this. Never in his life had he experienced anything even remotely like it, and he had no idea how to handle it. Sure, he'd seen naked women, his dad and Merle had taken care of that, but all of that, including the women he'd been with for one-night stands that Merle had forced him into, had been utterly meaningless compared to … this.

After what felt like a lifetime, his brain stuttered to life again, and he cleared his throat once more and managed to speak – sort of. "Your tent … your lines … wanted to … Jus' lemme know when I can …" Hell, he was so pathetic. She was still staring at him with those wide, blue doe's eyes, not even attempting to cover herself, and here he was, still taking in the sight in front of him like a damn creep.

He felt his insides tighten when he saw the marks on her body, similar to his own, and if Ed had been here right now he would have beaten him to a pulp with his bare hands for touching, marking, hurting her like that, for making her feel worthless and disgusting like that, for instilling terror and fear in her like that. He knew exactly – God, how well he knew! – what she had felt like, and it was killing him. What was worse, he knew that he couldn't help her. She would need someone to pick her up, instead of pull her down further, the way he surely would.

He was nothing.

She was … perfect.

Lowering his eyes to the ground, he mumbled something about waiting outside until she was done and was about to withdraw, again like a ghost, when he heard her whisper his name. "Daryl, it's so kind of you to help me. I'll be right there."

As always, her voice soothed his nerves the way nobody else could. Taking a deep breath past the huge lump in his throat, he managed to lift is head and raise his eyes. She was looking at him, SMILING at him, and his hammering heart was close to exploding when he realized that she wasn't angry with him for bursting in on her like this. He found it incredibly hard to read other peoples' expressions, but hers right now seemed to tell him that it was okay, that she was okay with him seeing her like this, and that she trusted him with what he'd seen. That she knew he would keep it safe.

Keep her safe.

Nodding quickly, he withdrew from her tent and waited for her to join him.


	4. If Axel had lived

His eyes found her, coming up from behind her cover, all across the prison yard, his look intense as he stared at her through the fences between them. He was still standing outside, with Rick and, incredibly, his brother Merle. When he was certain that she was looking at him - and how could she not be? - he gave her that small, restrained nod, reserved just for her, telling her he was okay across that huge distance and without a single word, even as he was reassuring himself that she, too, was unhurt.

She managed to draw in a shuddering breath. When Rick had told her that he had left with Merle, without giving her any background information, she had felt as if the ground was giving way beneath her feet. He had been her anchor, her lifeline, the only one she could rely on to keep her safe and put her first, before anyone else, and she had believed him lost forever.

Now there he stood, his face bruised and battered, with blood sheeting down from a cut high on his right cheek, and when they started walking up to the inner gate she could see from the way he held his bow and himself and from the way he was walking that he was in pain. When Merle said something to him and jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, he flinched, his face contorting for just a moment, which betrayed the fact that this wasn't his usual don't-dare-to-touch-me-or-I-might-kick-your-ass-into-next-week flinch.

He might have given her his nod, but it was all too obvious that he was definitely not okay. Something had happened to him in Woodbury.

She was so focused on him walking up that she completely missed Axel coming up from behind her until he was practically on top of her. "Ya hurt?" he asked solicitously, looking her over.

For just a moment she did not even understand what he was referring to. The walkers milling in the yard again, the broken down gates, the bullet holes testifying to the vicious attack that had just been carried out against them - none of it had registered any longer once she had caught sight of him. She gazed at Axel in confusion.

He was kind, she had to hand him that. He might become a good friend in time, if they both lived. She might have played along with him flirting and teasing, but it would not have been the same. Much as she regretted hurting him - and she knew that she was hurting him -, her only answer to his concerned question was a distracted nod before she looked back at the three men coming toward them.

They were within hearing distance now, and she could hear him snapping at Merle who was talking about "bleedin' heart Darleena" saving a Mexican family on some bridge "outta the fuckin' goodness of 'is heart" which earned him a scornful laugh from his older brother. Rick, who had never seen them together before, looked from one to the other in irritation, probably wondering whether they'd come to blows right there.

She watched his free hand, the one not holding his crossbow, brushing over his ribs, and the skin around his eyes tightened for just an instant. Her insides clenched with worry. For him to allow it to show on his face, however briefly, it had to be bad, and she resolved to not let him get away with his "'m fine, I got this, gonna take care of it m'self" routine. Even Merle, she saw, was casting a concerned look at him, but Daryl brushed him off.

Now he looked up again, reaching out for the gate with his free hand, wincing once more, and then he noticed Axel hovering behind her. His face darkened instantly, but the next second his head was down again as he pushed through the gate without looking where he was going. Not wanting to see her standing there with another man. One who had been here with her while he himself had been gone.

Only now did she realize that Axel had apparently been talking to her the entire time - nothing that he'd said had registered with her, however fleetingly. The memory of his voice was just a droning background sound, like the white noise between radio stations. She looked up at him, bewildered, and saw the hurt in his eyes that she had known would be there.

And just as Daryl was passing them, his head turned ever so slightly to pick up what they were saying, Axel asked her: "So, this the one you're savin' yourself for? The one with the crossbow?"

And even though she would have welcomed the Earth opening to swallow her at that moment, it still made her giddy with happiness to see the familiar blush creeping up all the way to his ears, and the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly in that characteristic Daryl non-smile.

They were good.


	5. Rosemary McLeod

As always, she was busy. This time, she was preparing the ingredients for their dinner at the outdoor dining area, enjoying the last warm rays of sunlight as the sun was sinking toward the treeline behind the prison. Daryl had been out hunting the day before and had brought back a small buck which he'd dressed for her immediately upon his return, so all she had to do now was cut it up into manageable pieces to produce several nice, large pieces of roast deer.

He had also been thoughtful enough to collect some greens on his way back to go along with the meat, claiming that they were wild onions when handing them to her, and she had no choice but to take his word for it. One of the Woodbury women who had joined them after the sacking of that town, arthritic old Mrs Rosemary McLeod, was standing next to her now, chopping them up. Frail as she was, the old lady wanted to do what she could to contribute to their life here.

Deep in thought as she was, working on autopilot as she often did during her routine tasks, she looked up toward the watchtower where the front end of his crossbow was just peeking out over the tower railing. He and Michonne were taking a break from their multi-day Governor hunt runs, having been out twice already, so they could both pull their weight at the prison for a few days before going out again. He'd volunteered for the afternoon watch and retreated to the solitude of the tower, preferring it over the gates where he would have been keeping watch with at least three other people.

She hated that he kept going out on these runs, putting himself at risk like that, with only Michonne for backup. It wasn't that she didn't implicitly trust the woman to have his back during these runs. It was just that she felt it was unsafe for just two people to be out there on their own. She would have felt much better if it was a larger group going out – but the personalities of their Governor hunters prevented this from happening.

They were both loners who preferred spending time alone to spending it with people, and if possible they liked spending their alone time out in the open instead of the newly crowded prison. Those left in Woodbury after the Governor's devastating attack on the prison, those unfit to join the fight – the very old, the very young, the frail, the sick, as everybody else had been all but drafted into service on his army – had been brought back to the prison four weeks ago and everybody was still adapting to the new situation.

She didn't yet know the newcomers as well as she would have liked, but she did know the people welcoming them to their home, and of these, Daryl and Michonne would definitely have the hardest time getting used to things. Therefore, these runs looking for Blake definitely made sense in many more ways than one.

Carol was staring ahead sightlessly, her hands ever busy preparing the venison, when Glenn suddenly marched through her field of vision on his way to the watchtower. He called out a friendly greeting to the two women and Carol, startled out of her reverie, answered him with a smile and a greeting of her own, watching as he reached the door, pulled it open and disappeared inside the tower. Moments later, his disembodied head showed up at the top, soon to be joined by Daryl's as he made his way from the balcony into the tower and to the stairway.

Her face lit up when she realized that his watch was over and this would be one of the rare occastions when he would be able to have dinner with her. She went back to her task with renewed vigor, a spring in her step as she all but whirled around to reach for the salt. She was far too swept up in her happy cloud to notice the sudden silence as Mrs McLeod stopped chopping.

The door at the foot of the tower banged open and he exploded out, all nervous energy, crossbow slung over his shoulder, purposefully striding not quite toward her but close enough to pass right next to the barbecue area, and as her eyes were on him from the moment he stepped out of the tower, his eyes found hers for just a moment before cutting down to the ground again. One corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile as he blushed. At the same time, his left hand went to his rear pants pocket and then came back up again, yanking on the strap of his crossbow to adjust its position on his back.

As he passed the two of them, standing under the roof and following his progress from the tower to the cellblock, he mumbled what could have passed for a greeting without looking up again. Carol felt her heart thundering inside her, and the blood roaring in her ears was so loud it almost drowned out his voice. It was all she could do to mutter a greeting in return before he was out of earshot again.

She pulled herself back into reality with difficulty, only to be faced with a beaming Mrs McLeod. "What did I miss?" she asked, confused, as she couldn't make heads nor tails of the woman's apparent delight.

"Thought he was a bad boy at first, when they dragged him into the arena to fight his brother", Mrs McLeod began, still smiling at her. "It's what they told us, after all – that he'd attacked Woodbury with his friends to kill us all. But now –" The old woman's eyes wistfully followed Daryl, who had meanwhile reached the door to the cellblock and was yanking it open. "You've found yourself a good man there, missus. Make sure to hold on to him."

Carol stared at her, bewildered. "What? No! There's nothing …" Her voice trailed off. While they certainly weren't another Maggie and Glenn, there sure as hell wasn't "nothing" either. It just wasn't obvious, or clear-cut, and maybe he didn't even realize there was something there to begin with. Literally all of his previous relationships – with his mother, his father and his brother – had put him through hell, and he wouldn't want to add to that, so he closed himself off as best he could.

But there was something very sweet and beautiful about the way they were tiptoeing around each other, never fully out of reach, yet never really touching, either. For the time being, though, this would remain a secret between Mrs McLeod and herself.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd let Daryl in on it one day.

* * *

AN1:

YES, as this is after Merle's death he is already carrying the letter and is reaching for it here, but hasn't made up his mind yet on whether or not to hand it over.

AN2:

We'll be on vacation without internet access for the next two weeks, so no more updates before mid-September. I'm not abandoning this!


	6. Caryl moment with Judith

Wiping her hands on her pants, she stepped into the cool shadows of the prison cellblock, glad to be out of the sun for a moment. Her shift on the guard tower had been uneventful and she sincerely hoped that the run on which Daryl had left with Glenn and Michonne just before she had mounted the tower would turn out just as boring.

She swung by Rick and Carl's cell to check in on Beth and Judith on her way to her own cell. The blond girl was doing a great job helping Rick out with his daughter, and she didn't think that he gave her the credit she was due for this. Then again, he was still touch and go and couldn't really be held accountable yet for anything that he did or didn't do.

Judith seemed cranky when she reached Rick's cell and Beth looked bored out of her mind, so she offered to take the toddler off her hands so she could do something she wanted for a change. She had seen the girl write in some kind of journal when she had the time, and knew that she liked singing and drawing. In any case, there had to be things that an 18 year old girl liked better than having a six month old baby be sick on her shoulder.

Rocking the little girl on her arm, she sang to her softly, remembering when Sophia was this old, and as always tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her daughter. She went out into the main hallway and was on her way toward the entrance to their cellblock when she heard the rumble of the bike and the purring of the car's engine, and her heart sang with joy.

Even standing in here instead of outside, she knew that he was back safely because the bike was back, and neither Glenn nor Michonne knew how to ride it. Nor did the rumbling stop down at the gate, but it continued on up to the door she was facing, probably because she hadn't been waiting down at the gate and he wanted to make sure she was safely inside as quickly as possible. She heard the familiar squeal of the kickstand as he turned it down after killing the bike's engine and getting off, and then the door in front of her opened and he was there.

He didn't smile openly - he never did that. But the corner of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly, and his blue eyes lit up with joy as he saw her standing there with the baby in her arms, his two favorite people in the world. He was next to her in two long strides and she was overjoyed to see that he wasn't hurt at all but had returned just as he'd left.

His calloused hands came up and she saw that he was holding a small net with five little red plastic toy cups in it. Judith, who had been crowing with delight at the sight of him reached out for his face now, yanking on the scruff dusted across his cheeks and chin, and then grabbed the cups, watching anxiously as he ripped open the net to get them out for her.

Carol walked over to the play corner they had set up for the little girl and sat her down on the warm blanket. She giggled with joy and then made mewling sounds as she attempted to stack the cups. Carol sat down next to her and looked up at Daryl invitingly. He stood there, looking sheepish, and finally mumbled: "I can't do this. I'm not ... I don't even know what to do with her, beyond feedin' or changin'. Rick is good with that sorta stuff. He's her dad, he can do that."

"Sitting down to play with her isn't being a dad, Daryl. And you're not taking anything away from Rick by doing it. She loves you and will enjoy playing with you. I know you can do this, Daryl."

Hesitantly, he came closer and got down on his knees. Her heart ached for him when he tentatively reached out for one of the cups, very obviously without a clue as to what he could or should do with it. It was painfully clear that he had no idea just how much his inability to play with Judith, whom he loved so very much, gave away about his own childhood.

Careful not to be too obvious about it, she reached for another of the cups and set it on the ground bottom up, then took the one he was holding and slid it over her own. Judith crowed in delight and tried to imitate Carol with the cup she was still holding. Daryl blushed, realizing that Carol had seen so much more than just him sitting there holding his red cup, and moved to stand.

He froze when he felt her hand on his arm.

"It's not your fault, Daryl. How could what happened to you ever be your fault? You are so good with her, and she loves you so much." The pain in her eyes as he looked away mirrored that in his as she continued. "You're so much more to her than you ever got. You're doing great."

He turned his head then to look at Carol, but she kept looking at Judith, knowing that would make it easier for him. Slowly, reluctantly, he reached out for another cup and stacked it on top of the two already sitting between the three of them, with Judith closely watching his every move. When he let go of the cup, she picked it back up, painstakingly repeated what he had done and finally managed to slide it on top of the little cup tower with a yelp of delight.

Wordlessly, he got up, and this time Carol didn't try to stop him. Biting his lower lip he turned away, then hesitated and looked back at her over his shoulder. "Would you teach me?" he asked softly.

When she smiled up at him, his eyes shone with gratitude as he nodded at her before turning away for good this time to leave for his perch.


	7. Big spoon and little spoon

Daryl still found it hard to believe that they had found each other again – or rather, that she had found him.

Not only had Carol saved his ass, all of their asses, at Terminus – no, on top of that she had managed to find and follow their trail out of that godforsaken place and catch up with them. She had given Rick what was probably the greatest gift of his life – his daughter, safe and sound, after he had spent days believing her dead and lost - maybe devoured -, Lori's sacrifice in vain. Most of the time he managed to keep up his tough façade, but the sight of Rick running toward Tyreese to hug Judith close had had him on the verge of tears, and he still found his throat constricting when he thought of it now.

It was dark, and with unknown dangers populating the forest around them they had decided not to light a fire for the night. Their camp was cold and dark, and they had formed little groups to huddle down in so as to share body heat. As Terminus had left him more skittish than ever, the only person he could stand being physically close to was Carol. He was baffled by how everyone else seemed to know this even before he himself did, with the other groups leaving a large area unoccupied for the two of them to lie down in.

With Carol out on her own at first, and then taking care of three kids with only Tyreese to help her – and he still didn't know about the horrors that had befallen them -, followed by blowing up Terminus all by her lonesome, she had to be beyond exhausted. Yet he could sense her stirring behind his back, sighing, moaning, moving about restlessly. Once he believed he could hear her sobbing, but as the sound didn't come again, he became uncertain of himself once more and remained frozen in indecision. He was disgusted with himself at how unhelpful he was being, but he had no idea what he could do to help her.

He himself wasn't much better at finding rest. He was still hurting from the beating that Joe's thugs had given him when they had met up with Rick, Michonne and Carl three days ago and Daryl had begged for their lives, offering his own in exchange. They certainly hadn't hesitated to kick and beat the shit out of him, and never mind that he had been a member of their group for days before that.

It hadn't escaped his notice how sadly Carol kept looking at his black eye and the cuts on his face, and how she seemed to wilt every time he hissed in pain when something – a touch, a wrong move – aggravated his broken ribs or the bruises marking him from his shoulders down to his knees. Lying on the naked ground with all of that shit still causing him pain proved difficult, and the anxiety that had him twitching nervously every few minutes sure as fuck wasn't helping.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried unsuccessfully to simply force himself into sleeping, but of course this didn't work either. His mind was doing overtime, running in circles like a hamster in its cage, and he found himself unable to shut down for the night although he desperately needed the rest.

Just as he was contemplating getting up again and relieving Glenn from watch, who was still suffering from the aftereffects of the flu he'd nearly died of at the prison, he could hear Carol stirring again behind his back. He carefully turned over to face her, cradling the right side of his ribcage with his left hand in an attempt to alleviate the pain there.

A few rays of pale moonlight spearing through the trees sheltering them illuminated her face as she looked at him. Once again, he noticed the sadness in her eyes, her obvious distress at something she hadn't shared yet, her unease as she lay there next to him, and he ached at how inadequate he was at helping her. Maybe Tyreese would know what to do? Rick? Glenn? Abraham? Hell, _Eugene_?

Just then she started talking, very softly, making sure that nobody else but him would hear, careful not to wake up those who, against all odds, had managed to fall asleep.

„We both know what they did in that place."

It was a statement, not a question. Her voice was calm and controlled, very matter-of-fact. She was tightly controlling her emotions over what had happened back at Terminus. If she gave up her control, she was certain that she would shatter beyond repair. What she had seen there, what she had feared he had suffered, on top of what had happened with the girls in the pecan grove, would have been enough on its own to destroy anyone's sanity - and she had seen unspeakable horrors even before that.

She could not, could _never_, give up whatever tenuous control she had over her own emotions.

Then again, that control extended only so far. Her own pain had become easy to ignore, to gloss over, to hide from everyone but him. She knew that he was aware that something was wrong. He knew her better than anyone, better even than Ty who had become a close friend during their time alone. Daryl might not know any details, but he knew full well that her soul was teetering on the edge of self-annihilation and that it would fall unless she allowed herself to be rescued.

His pain, though, was something she couldn't ignore, had never been and would never be able to ignore. His eyes betrayed his anguish, and she couldn't just look on and watch him self-destruct over something he'd had no control over.

„It _was_ horrible, and it's perfectly normal to be horrified by it", she elaborated when he didn't react. The skin around his eyes tightened, but he still didn't answer. „Being afraid of them doesn't make you weak", she whispered, and she slowly reached out for his free hand. The way he had to visibly restrain himself from flinching away from her touch made her heart ache - but she appreciated that he did manage to control his reflex. She didn't want to imagine what he had witnessed, what had been done to him, how he had been manhandled, for his flinch to come back full force even when it was _her_ touching him.

His hand felt tense in hers - he still hadn't managed to relax. „We've got each others' backs", she went on, cradling his hand in hers, allowing his body heat to warm her - it seemed to her that she had been cold ever since Rick had watched her get into that dusty car and drive off in it, alone.

„They were … worse than animals." His voice was hoarse, rough with emotion. He couldn't get over the memories of what he had seen on their way out of Terminus. His face felt like a mask, frozen in a grimace of horror. It killed him that he couldn't just rejoice in being with her again - but the memories haunting him made it seem as if they tainted every moment of his life right now.

She looked into his rigid face and brought both hands up to gently touch his cheeks, the way she had just before he had stepped up to her after she had found them in the woods outside Terminus to drop his head on her shoulder. She felt his shuddering exhale against her neck and shoulder, and she felt him relaxing ever so slightly.

„Could you … turn around again?" she asked him. „I'd like to try something here."

Slowly, mindful of his ribs, he turned back onto his left side and reached back for her hand again - but she surprised him. He could feel her scooting up against his back, and then her right arm came up around his waist, her hand flat against his stomach. Her head turned until her cheek rested against his back, and then her legs folded up to rest against his own.

She had copied his posture, snuggling up against him and hugging him to her with her right arm.

She was being big spoon to his little spoon - and he could feel the fear and terror that had been pent up inside him seeping out. He _never_ allowed anyone to touch his back - yet feeling her pressed up against him, warm and protective, literally guarding his back, finally helped him relax. He realized how exhausted he was as the tension finally drained from his muscles, and he noticed his breathing turning deep and slow.

And then he felt her right hand on his stomach moving toward his own left hand, and her fingers lacing through his, holding on tightly - and was finally able to let go.


	8. Y'all need Jesus!

The first truly familiar person he ran into after returning from his first recruiting trip with Aaron was Michonne. She was in her constable's uniform and seemed to be on patrol, although her face suggested that she wasn't quite certain of what exactly it was she was supposed to be doing. She was carrying a baton on her belt, and he spied a pistol in her secured holster.

When she saw him hastily making his way from the townhall, where he and Aaron had probably been debriefed by Deanna, to the house from which he'd set out five days before she allowed herself a big grin. „Daryl!"

The scowl on his face became slightly less fierce as he stopped and squinted at her. „Ain't ya supposed ta always be in pairs?" he asked, ostensibly looking about himself. „Just in case a mob gangs up on ya, tryin' ta overwhelm ya?"

„You don't take authority well, Dixon, do you?" she asked jokingly and was shocked by the change that came over him at these words. His hackles seemed to rise as he tensed up, his face going dark and mean. It occurred to her that she knew little to nothing about his past before the Turn, and apparently her words had struck a nerve that was still sore. „I'm sorry", she said sincerely, hoping she hadn't alienated him beyond repair. After their first rough encounter, he had proved to be a good, loyal friend and she would hate if she had truly hurt him.

Daryl looked at her long and hard, but finally he relaxed and his face, while still angry, lost the mean look that had reminded her of Merle for a moment. „'s okay", he mumbled. „Heard that too often without a good reason, before." To her dismay, he looked down at his feet. She had noticed that a lot in him after Merle's death, and she didn't particularly like it - he seemed to forget for a moment how strong and resilient he was.

„Did you find candidates?" she asked in an effort to bring him back to the present and remind him of what a valuable member of this community he was, how much responsibility he'd been given. Also, she was genuinely curious to find out more about his trip.

"Nah, there was this one guy, but he's …" He fell silent, his eyes taking on a distant look. After a few moments of silence, he found his voice again. "He's a bad apple, never even approached him", he finished.

She nodded, instantly reminded of his brother Merle again whom she had actually met before ever laying eyes on Daryl – and if she hadn't heard it from Merle himself, she would never have believed that these two were brothers, although deep down inside they had to have shared at least some similarities.

Trying to lighten the mood – he still wasn't over his depression in the wake of the deaths they had suffered since the fall of the prison -, she smiled at him. "You've got your house to yourselves now, by the way", she informed him. "It was too small for so many people, seeing as you would want a bedroom instead of the porch sooner or later."

He blushed fiercely. "Porch was fine for me", he mumbled. "Now Carol will be all alone in that huge house, why'd you leave her in there?"

She gave him a thoughtful look. It was true that she didn't know anything about his past, as evidenced by putting her foot in her mouth earlier. This included any previous relationships he might have had, either with women or with men.

That said, it was obvious to everyone but Daryl himself, apparently, that Carol was not okay with him sleeping on the porch instead of, at the very least, in the bedroom next to hers - if not the same bedroom altogether. He seemed completely and utterly oblivious to Carol's feelings for him, although how that was possible was beyond her, with the two of them constantly looking out for each other and not letting each other out of their sight whenever they were in the same place. Daryl for his part certainly seemed to be telegraphing his feelings for Carol, as far as Michonne was concerned.

A high-pitched ringing noise had them both jump before she could answer, and when Daryl looked up he saw Carl racing toward him on a battered bike, his face nearly split in two by a fierce grin. „Daryl! You're back! Wow, Judith will love that - will you come by our house to say hello to her once you've been with Carol?"

Michonne had to hide her grin with one hand, trying to disguise it as brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Surely Daryl would react to Carl just as he had to her and deny everything because he truly didn't see it. Carl rode three circles around the two of them and then stopped in front of Daryl. „Dad will be happy, too, I think he wants to talk to you", he added, quickly followed by another: „But only after you've been home. Carol's been worried."

Sure enough, Daryl let out an irritated growl and glared at Carl. „'sup with this constant mention of Carol? 'm on my way already, so if you'd just let me continue on home …"

Michonne laughed outright while Carl blushed crimson. „I just mean … you've got the house to yourselves now, so you won't have to pretend any longer …" He caught sight of Daryl's bewildered expression and made it worse by trying to explain. „Well, you and Carol … with you sleeping on the porch so we wouldn't know … But everyone already knows you're dating, Daryl, and now you can move in and -„

Daryl produced an inarticulate sound that had Michonne nearly choking with laughter. Looking from her to Carl and back again, Daryl shook his head. „Y'all need Jesus!" he burst out, storming off.

Carl, baffled, stared at Michonne who was trying to catch her breath again. „But … _everyone_ knows anyway?" he asked, sounding confused.

With a grin, Michonne shook her head. „Daryl doesn't, apparently - but I'm guessing he'll find out soon enough."


	9. The morning after

**Carol**

She didn't wake up all at once, but gradually, almost gently, and for some reason she was feeling … fluffy? Content? Happy?

Thinking about what she was feeling like made her tired again, and she drifted off to sleep once more, with the light filtering into the room still dim and the sun clearly not up yet. Right on the edge of her consciousness she registered a soft, warm, heavy weight resting against her but didn't want to think about that on top of her mysterious feelings. If it was still there come morning, and proved to be a problem, that would be the time to deal with it. For now, sleep was just too irresistible a lure to not give in to it.

When she woke up the next time, the weight against her side was gone. Strangely, the bedding was rumpled across the entire width of the bed which she never lay on, and there was a second pillow lying next to her own. What -?

Her eyes flew open as she went from borderline drowsy to wide awake within a split second.

The pillow was Daryl's, and he had rumpled the other half of her bed.

He had slept next to her after they had …

She was a grown woman of nearly fifty years who had been married and given birth to a child. Yet now she found herself blushing like a teenager at the memory of what had happened in this room, in this bed, the night before.

_With Daryl._

Her skin came alive again with memories of his hands on it, careful, gentle, always afraid that he might hurt her. Slowly, she lowered her hand to his pillow, but it felt cold to her touch. He was long gone, probably scared of his own courage the night before, or else scared that she was mad at him for some reason.

Yet her body remembered, and hoped he would be back tonight.

**Daryl**

He had felt her stirring at his side ever so slightly before dawn, on the verge of waking up, but then she had fallen asleep again, and he had remained by her side until the light falling across her bed through the window announced the arrival of the new day.

Sliding out of the bed without waking her up, he had dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day before and then picked up his boots and crossbow in one hand to carry them out, afraid that stomping through the room in his heavy boots or slinging his bow on his back would make too much noise and wake her up.

And the one thing he knew for certain was that he was completely unable to face her just yet.

After what had happened here last night, he was out of his depth as never before and first needed to process everything that had gone down, everything that had been said, both by her and by him.

Everything that they had done.

He felt his body all but lighting up at the memory of her hand on his naked skin, and he blushed as he remembered first taking off her shirt – and then her face, full of love and patience, as she waited for him to take off his own shirt, at his own pace, fully aware of how vulnerable he was going to feel and allowing him to stay in control of this baring of himself, both literally and figuratively, instead of rushing him into something he might regret later on. There were no words in him for how grateful he was for her infinite patience with him – she really deserved someone better, someone who wasn't as completely unable to deal with all of this as he was.

By the time he left the house to hunt, he had convinced himself to move in with the other half of his family that very same day to give her space and the opportunity to find herself the man she deserved.

**Later**

When he returned, with three rabbits and a pheasant over one shoulder and his bow slung over the other, he first found Rick. "Need to talk to ya", Daryl mumbled, walking alongside Rick as he strode down the street in his smart uniform that made Daryl feel all the more inadequate in his dirty old clothes. "Need ta move house, wanted to ask if it's okay with you?"

Rick cast him a surprised glance. "Why would you want to move?" he asked, bewildered.

Frowning, Daryl looked down at his feet and Rick saw that he was blushing. "Did something I shouldn'ta done. 's kinda private, too …"

Realization struck Rick like lightning. When he'd come down the stairs that morning after a good night's sleep, he'd found Carol in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and singing softly to herself. There had been a spring to her step that he had never seen before and the difference in her demeanor compared to the days before was striking. "Have you talked to Carol about moving out?" he asked carefully. "She'd … need to know because … it would affect … her workload? With you out of the house? She would … probably change her … schedule?" He did have an inkling what Daryl's answer would be, but he needed to be sure.

"Naw, only thought about it while I was out just now", Daryl muttered, lifting the string holding his game in explanation of why he had been away.

Aware that he was on dangerous ground here, Rick stopped to look at his friend. "You might want to think about that again, Daryl", he suggested, and when Daryl frowned at him questioningly, he went on, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think Carol would welcome a change in our housing arrangements just now. When I came down for breakfast this morning she seemed … very happy to me." As Daryl's neck and ears were turning crimson, Rick took care to look away from him as he went on. "She was singing, in fact. I've never seen her like this. Whatever it was that you did – it must have been right."

Daryl bolted without another word.

**Home**

She spotted him through the kitchen window, but took care not to let him notice that she been aware that he was coming. As he was still wearing his heavy boots, probably dirty as hell from his jaunt, she knew exactly when he entered the kitchen as she was putting away the breakfast dishes. When she heard him shuffling his feet in the door, she turned around to face him.

Daryl was looking down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable, and her heart sank. Her memories of last night would carry her through a lot, of that she was certain. She had valued him as a friend and would cherish him as even more than a friend. Right now, however, she was terribly afraid that even their friendship might have suffered. Trying to make it easier for him, as always, she addressed him first, drying her hands on a towel. "You're bringing dinner", she said warmly, smiling at him.

He looked up on hearing her tone of voice, amazement all over his face. "You okay?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked in return. "It's a beautiful day, ushered in by a perfect night. Of course I'm okay." She watched him carefully as she put the towel on the drain board. Then, softly, hesitantly: "Are you okay, Daryl? Have I hurt you?"

His eyes widened at this and he shook his head. "Course not. It's just … I didn't think you were … comfortable … with what happened …" He trailed off.

At least she knew a little more now, enough at least to confidently step up to him and reach out with one hand to touch his bare arm. He didn't flinch back, and she felt heat pooling in her belly. "I don't know about you", she began carefully. "But I had the most wonderful night of my life yesterday, and I wouldn't miss it for the world – and I want to thank you for it."

His throat worked, but no sound came out. He did manage to meet her eyes, though, with a look on his face that reminded her of a frightened deer. After another failed attempt, he finally ground out a single word. "Thank?"

The fear and insecurity in his eyes tugged at her heartstrings. How, after all that he had been through, could _love_ of all things reduce this man to a bundle of nerves? "Thank you", she confirmed, "for the most wonderful hours in my entire life. I have never felt this loved."

She saw his walls crumbling right in front of her. Heaving in another breath, he took the last step separating him from her and finally pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he'd never let go.


	10. Caryl try to keep their relationship sec

Carol's eyes followed him as he moved away from her, his crossbow slung across his back, after a brief, intense look into her eyes as the back of his hand brushed hers in passing.

Eric, leaning against the door jamb, had been watching Aaron who was walking next to Daryl, the two of them going out on another recruiting run. Unlike Carol, who was smiling ever so slightly, convinced that Daryl would know how to handle himself out there because he had been looking out for himself for decades, Eric looked worried.

When Aaron opened the driver's door of the car and got in, Eric looked over at Carol who was watching Daryl swing his leg over his bike's saddle - HIS bike, not Merle's - and take it off the kickstand with his left foot while turning the key in the ignition. He glanced back at her over his shoulder as his right thumb moved to the switch to start the engine.

Her slight smile turned into a brilliant one, her eyes shining.

Daryl gave her his curt nod - his promise to be back, safe and sound - and toed his bike into first gear, then gently rotated the right handgrip toward himself, revving up the engine, even as he loosened his grip on the clutch. Facing forward again, he revved the engine once more and lifted his booted right foot onto the footrest as the bike started moving.

With a deep sigh, Carol turned away, back toward the house, to pick up the supplies she would be taking home.

Eric raised an eyebrow. „How long have you been together?" he asked softly.

Startled, Carol looked up and met his eyes. „We're not -„ she began, uncomfortable. What to say? „It's not like that", she tried to explain. „We … We look out for each other. We're … We're like family, all of us, so we …" She faltered, feeling that Eric's eyes were seeing far more than just her face. He was looking right into her.

„Yeah, right", Eric smiled. „And you smile at everyone leaving on a run like that, sure." He put a gentle hand on Carol's shoulder as she passed him. „Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I know he's very private, so you probably are, too. It's none of my business, after all."

Relieved, she let it go - although, of course, she had not succeeded in changing his mind.

.-.

They had taken up their prison routine again once they had gotten settled in Alexandria. This being Daryl's third run from here, and everyone knowing them well enough by now, the tower outlook knew enough to send for her when the bike came into view, followed by the car. She was already waiting at the gate by the time it was opened to admit the two of them.

Aaron, following Daryl in and with a clear view of Carol, saw her shoulders rising as she took him in, saw her chest expanding as she took a deep breath. He had put the bike down two days before and had bruises and scratches on his right arm, but was otherwise unhurt and undamaged.

Unlike many other times he'd gone out and come back, Daryl was well.

And once the bike had passed her and Daryl was no longer able to watch her face, Aaron saw her close her eyes and wipe a hand across them, quickly, brushing away tears of gratitude. And he saw the bone-deep relief when her hand came down again.

Like Eric, he knew what he was seeing.

.-.

Stepping out of the townhall, Daryl turned toward his bike, reaching out with both hands to steady it prior to getting on it. Aaron was on his heels, heading for the car waiting next to the bike.

„So", he began in a casually conversational tone, „how long have you been together?"

Daryl froze, already straddling the bike. Aaron saw his jaw muscles working, saw him biting his lower lip, saw him tense up, saw his eyes narrowing. He knew him well enough by now to realize that he had just made Daryl Dixon put all his tells for anxiety on display, with the sole exception of the thumb gnawing because he needed to keep his bike balanced. Then Daryl looked up at him, all but piercing him with his glare. „Shuddup", he growled, his voice low and threatening.

Taken aback by his fierce answer, Aaron raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, just like that first time they'd met, after the storm. „Whoa, no offense meant", he managed, his eyes wide with apprehension. Angry Daryl, he knew, was a force of nature and not to be taken lightly. „I just thought … From the way she looks at you when we leave, and then again when we come back … Sorry, man!"

„Yeah, sorry don't cut it, you stop talkin' shit about her", Daryl snapped back, finally sitting down on his bike and kicking up its stand.

„But -„ Aaron bit his lip immediately as Daryl glared up at him. As the hunter didn't launch himself at him right away, however, he cautiously went on. „How is assuming that you're together ‚talking shit about her'?" He painted quotation marks in the air as he repeated Daryl's words.

„I ain't discussin' her", Daryl replied curtly.

Aaron took this answer in quite eagerly. „So … You're not denying it? You're together?" His face lit up. „That's great, Daryl! I just bet she's great for you, she cares so much for you and I just love that you have someone to come home to as well, just like I have Eric …" He realized that he was rambling and slowly trailed off.

Daryl, he saw, had blushed a bright crimson from his neck up to his ears and kept his head down as he started his bike and roared off. Aaron looked after him, a happy grin on his face. „Whatever, Daryl. Everyone knows about it anyway", he muttered as he slipped into the driver's seat.

.-.

„Did you ask? Were you brave enough?" Eric was all but bouncing on his toes with excitement as soon as Aaron opened the door. „He came back maybe two minutes ago and hugged her on the front porch before they went in. Like this." He stepped up to Aaron and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, placing his head against Aaron's shoulder. „I was waiting for them to melt into each other. How can he still believe that nobody is onto them?"

Aaron chuckled softly as he gently kissed Eric first on the tip of his nose and then on the mouth as they stepped apart reluctantly. His arms were still around Eric's shoulders - he had missed him out there and relished the physical contact with his lover as he always did after a run.

Then his thoughts returned to his recruiting partner and his face turned somber. „He's excellent at reading people as they truly are, behind the masks they wear", he said softly. „But at the same time he's still learning to … how do I put this?" His eyes lit up as Eric handed him a cup of coffee - with creamer and two lumps of sugar in it, just the way he liked it.

And then it hit him. „He senses the danger in people", he whispered. „That's what he's good at. That's how he knows who to trust - and who not to. But at the same time it's almost like he's never learned to read the signals that people put out with regard to just about everything else."

When Eric gave him a confused look, he elaborated. „The looks that they exchange, the way she smiles at him, the way he's so protective of her - he truly thinks that nobody notices that because they're not signals for danger. And -„, he went on sadly, „I don't even wanna know the reasons for that, and I'm not going to ask!"

Eric sighed as they both sat down on the couch, Aaron cradling his mug of coffee in his lap, well aware that the mug would be replaced by something - or someone - else once it was empty, and looking forward to that. „Well", Eric said, curling up next to Aaron and leaning into him, enjoying the feel of his lover against his body, „at least we can be sure now that he has someone to come home to. It all adds up - the looks, the hugs, the angry denials - they're practically married."

„Yeah", Aaron said with a contented smile as he put his arm around Eric's shoulders to pull him in even closer. He'd have to hurry up with that coffee. „Wonder when their people will find out."


	11. Bubbles - Carol

_Story based on a first word prompt by thewritingrealm on Tumblr._

"Do you regret it?"

His voice was rough with emotion. His hands had stilled. He had stopped moving as soon as she had frozen.

She was sitting as still as a statue now, her head down, her hands clasping each other in the water. She was hunched over, all but curled in on herself. Making herself as small as possible.

Invisible.

Or at least trying to be.

„I c'n just … y' know … Could hand ya the towel and … leave ya alone if that's what ya want", he mumbled, still not moving. Then, softly, an afterthought, „If that's what ya need."

She almost couldn't breathe.

He understood perfectly.

She was not the one in control here.

Her memories were. Her past was.

_Ed_ was.

After all this time, to discover that he still held that much power over her came as a shock to her. He, however, having been reunited with his older brother after a separation of almost a year and discovering how much sway Merle still held over him, was probably able to all but read her thoughts here.

And he knew perfectly well how destructive they would be.

_You're such an ugly old hag, I can barely stand to look at you._

_I wonder what I ever saw in you._

_Too stupid even to give me a son._

_Look at yer tits, they look like huge dried figs._

_Can you at least give me a decent fuck? But leave the light off - I can't stand ta look at ya._

Each word a memory.

Each word a knife to her heart.

Each word hurtful enough to make her cringe.

Daryl's rough, calloused hand slowly moved over her shoulder to brush away the bubble bath foam that hadn't run down after she'd submerged herself in the delightfully warm water to wet her hair and then resurfaced to allow him to wash her back for her. „I'll get the towel and -", he began.

„No."

Again, he froze. Waited. Ready to do whatever she wanted him to. Whatever she needed. Whatever was best for _her_.

If only it hadn't taken the world to end for her to find him.

„I don't regret it."

Her voice was brittle. Hard. Harsh. More so because of the tiled walls and the many shower stalls lined up along them. He had placed the claw-footed bathtub in the corner that was farthest from the door to ensure privacy. They were surrounded by tiled walls.

Gnawing his lip, he waited her out. Her tense posture told him she wasn't done yet.

„Daryl -" She faltered. He waited, still resting his hand on her shoulder and keeping his eyes on the foam floating on the water. As he was extremely self-conscious himself about the way he looked, he recognized all the signs and didn't want to make her feel even more uncomfortable or spook her out of talking.

„It's very kind of you to do this for me", she whispered, her head still down. Her face was flaming now. He could see her flush fanning out as far out as her ears and shoulders. His heart clenched. As she still felt tense to his light touch, he waited for more.

„I know what I look like", she continued, still barely audible, trying to make herself unheard as well as invisible. „And it's worse right now because I haven't eaten, so I'm even more scrawny than I was before getting trapped down there."

Daryl bristled at this. He could take a lot, but this he would not stand for. „Stop", he interrupted her, his voice surprisingly gentle. „Don't."

She turned her head sideways, prompting him to explain without speaking or looking at him. He could feel her sitting up straighter in the bathtub.

„Don't talk shit 'bout yerself", he admonished her. „You're beautiful. Little worse for wear right now, but still beautiful. Ain't got nothin' to be ashamed of, ain't got nothin' ta hide." As far as he was concerned, this concluded the discussion. Fishing the sponge out of the water, he started to gently wash her back once more.

As the rhythmic, repetitive motions started lulling him and taking him into his own mind, he blurted out, „I know that kinda asshole, believe me. Always talkin' shit, takin' you down, tryin' to make you stop believin' in yourself." He took a deep breath as he rinsed the foam from her back, pouring water over it with his cupped hands.

„Forget him. He's dead and gone, so much dust. But _you_ -" He rose and picked up the towel he had hung on the nearest shower stall wall to carefully drape it around her shoulders as she rose. „You're beautiful, inside and out. Never forget that. Never believe him." Making sure one last time that the tub's drain and the drain in the bathroom floor were lined up, he pulled the plug out, draining the tub.

The grateful look she gave him as she stepped into the stall where she had deposited her clean clothes almost had him come undone.

Turning away, he muttered, so low that she wouldn't even have heard him while still sitting in the tub next to him, „And you're the best thing to ever fuckin' happen to me."

With a long, wistful look at the stall door hiding her from him, he left the bathroom.


	12. Bubbles - Daryl

_Takes place after Daryl and Aaron's return on Day 9._

As soon as the door closed, he seemed to change into a different man. His shoulders slumped, he all but collapsed into a slouch standing up, he appeared to be wilting before her very eyes.

She knew all too well how important it was to him to appear strong and indestructible on the outside. For him to allow her to see him like this, exhausted and tired, was a huge proof of his trust in her.

As if another was needed, after he had opened up so much during their search for …

She stopped herself just short of even thinking her name. Losing the girl he had fought so hard to save, first during the fall of the prison and its aftermath, and then again at Grady Memorial, had thrown him back a long way and it had hurt to see him so disheartened.

In Atlanta, he had all but laid his heart open for her, had allowed her to see what she had guessed, but what had never been confirmed before. Ever since then, he had allowed himself to be even more vulnerable in front of her than he had been before, and she was humbled by his trust.

She knew firsthand how hard it was to trust.

And he had chosen _her_ for that.

Closing up to him, making sure that her footsteps were clearly audible so he'd know when she'd reached him, she raised one hand and gently placed it on his shoulder, lightly, so as not to startle him. She heard and felt him exhale at her touch, as if the permission of her hand had been all he needed to let go.

„I'll run a bath for you and have a look at your arm once you've soaked a bit", she said softly.

„Nah, 'm good, 's nothin'", he mumbled, even his voice weary after nine days on the road, in the rain, in the cold, in the open. His head was still down, his hair hanging down the nape of his neck touching his leather vest by now.

She playfully ran her fingers through it, amused by the curls. „Should I cut this while you're in there anyway?" she teased. He made a sound halfway between annoyed grunt and denial and she let it go.

They started up the stairs and she noticed that he was walking slowly, carefully. She just hoped that he hadn't hurt himself too badly while doing what the marks on his arm suggested he'd done. Now that he was back, she wanted him to stay at their home, not at the hospital.

He paused halfway up the stairs, looking back over his shoulder. „Come to think of it, a bath does sound good. I'll be back down when I'm done." She knew better than to protest. After all they had been through together, exposing himself, his body, his damage, was still difficult for him, even though he knew that she would never judge him for what had happened, for how he looked.

She watched him make his way up the stairs, slowly, going easy on himself, and listened to his footsteps as he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

.-.

„Carol, would you …?" He wanted to kick himself. She had offered, and he had refused. It would serve him just right if _she_ refused _him_ now.

But then he heard footsteps approaching the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. „Daryl? Did you call?"

He closed his eyes and hung his head. She had his back even when he was being an asshole. Forcing himself to breathe, he snatched the bottle standing on the rim of the tub, opened it and squeezed a generous dollop of the pearly, shimmering contents into the water before opening the „hot" faucet and vigorously stirring the water with both hands. Adding the bubbles now would serve next to no purpose, but he had to at least try. Surely she wouldn't want to see … all there was to see.

„Yeah, I did. 'm sorry, but it's kinda hard to reach -"

„No, it's okay, I know so well", she piped up on the hallway side of the door. „Can I come in?"

He looked at the thin layer of foam with some displeasure, but it couldn't be helped at this point. „Yeah, 'm all set here", he called back, trying to make light of it as he turned off the water. The door handle produced its usual atrocious noise as she pushed it down and came in, her eyes on the floor so he'd have that one more moment to prepare himself.

And he did.

Even though he knew how ridiculously he was behaving, with his whole right side black and blue from his fall, he dropped his right arm under the water, hiding the deep scratches and scrapes out of sight, barely concealed by the flimsy foam layer.

She had to see what he'd done, of course. The bruises extended to his back as he well knew. There was no way she was not seeing them, with him sitting with his back to the door.

But she knew him so well.

Carol gently plucked the sponge from his left hand, soaped it up and then started lathering up his back with slow, gentle strokes, never saying a word. She didn't even take the trouble to instruct him to stop her if it hurt. Whenever her strokes ventured onto his bruised side or onto one of his deeper scars that she knew were painful, she just slid the sponge over his skin without any pressure at all while still giving the injured side of his body the comfort of her touch.

Daryl let out a low grunt, relaxing into her hand. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable with her seeing him, and now he almost couldn't remember what _not_ trusting her with that had been like. His life had certainly been that much more barren and empty without her in it.

„Did I ever tell you you've got magic hands?" he mumbled, his voice almost too low to hear now.

„Often", she smiled. Placing the sponge into the bowl on the tub's rim, she cupped her hands and dipped them into the water, filling them. He groaned with pleasure when she rinsed his back, even as her eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. But she knew better than to say anything.

Noting that his hair was still mostly dry, she ran her fingers through it, gently scratching his scalp. „Do I get to wash this mess?" she asked playfully.

„Naw, it's disgusting, I'll do it m'self", he mumbled, but this time she was confident enough to call him out on his nonsense.

„You're telling me you can't wash your back on your own, but you _can_ wash your hair?" she quipped. „I'll believe that when pigs fly." Cupping her hands once more, she poured water over Daryl's head and he made a noise of protest when some of it ran into his eyes. Next, she resolutely put a generous measure of the bubble bath into her left palm, rubbed it into a lather and went to work on the bird's nest on his head.

Once his hair was literally squeaky clean after the second rinse she gently slid her hand down to his banged up shoulder. It had the color of a ripe plum and had clearly hit the road first. He stiffened up ever so slightly, hissing in pain.

Leaning in, she touched her lips to the crown of his head, breathing in his clean scent. „Get some rest now", she whispered. „Leave the door open in case you need anything, so I hear you calling out - as a favor to me, okay?"

He chuckled softly and angled his wet head into her shoulder, seeking her out. „As a favor to you - yeah, right."

Home felt so good.


End file.
